


Crows and Coins

by protaganope



Series: Sanders Sides human!AU [2]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: But together they manage, Deaf Character, Disabled Character, Gen, Hoarding, Hoarding Disorder, Isolation, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Panic Attacks, Theyre both a little disfunctional
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-11 02:51:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18421299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/protaganope/pseuds/protaganope
Summary: Virgil visits Patton once a week. This is one of those meetings.





	Crows and Coins

**Author's Note:**

> World building for something that’s been in my head for a very long time.
> 
> (Title from Guided by Voices: 
> 
> “In our bungalow  
> Eating something wonderful  
> Never ever getting full  
> Nests of crows are hoarding coins  
> In the competition zone  
> Hush now seedling”)

Virgil knocks seven times on the door. He turns around to watch the road as he waits.

 

(Two red cars.) (Four silvers.)

 

“Coming!” A muffled response, and he turns back, can hear the clicking of the key in the lock.

 

The door opens a crack, before doubling in size, Patton’s smiling face appearing round it. He takes a step back, so Virgil can squeeze through the gap.

 

“I know you already texted me, but you can never be too careful,” Patton says, as Virgil tries not to knock over the towering boxes blocking the door. He nods to himself, before continuing, “Shut the door behind you, I’ll make tea.” And he’s off, avoiding the part where some newspapers are unsteadily stacked and bending disappearing behind the corner. Virgil just stands there for a moment, listens to the way Patton’s leg drags a little, his footsteps as familiar as always.

 

Then Virgil shuts the door. Beat. Open. Close. Open. Close. Open. Close.

 

He puts the chain on behind him and follows the sounds of puttering into the kitchen. Patton’s back is to him as he slides into a chair by the small table. Virgil’s nails tap against the wood a few times, and then he corrects it. The TV is going, louder than it should, but it doesn’t seem to bother Patton so he ignores it.

 

“How have you been?” He tries, voice a little more gravelly than he intends. Patton doesn’t respond.

 

With a sigh, he gets to his feet again and leans beside where the mugs are. Patton’s on his tip toes, searching for the teabags that are Virgil’s favourite. No such luck so far, it seems. He reaches out, palm on Patton’s shoulder, and tries not to frown when he flinches. “Let me help. Sit down, tell me how you’ve been.”

 

Patton looks at him for a moment, and Virgil can’t tell what he’s thinking. Then, a beam stretches across his face. “Yes, okay.” Then he crosses the room and turns the TV down low. Sits opposite where Virgil was originally and puts a finger to his mouth, thinking. Virgil’s never been so relieved.

 

He digs out his box from the rest before strategically putting the tea boxes away. The cupboard actually shuts this time, to his delight. then he rinses out the mugs, gets rid of the dust, while Patton begins to talk about his week. It’s the same as last week, but Virgil doesn’t stop him. He likes the cadence of his voice.

 

“And I found this great set of cutlery,” Patton says, stretching his back as the kettle comes to boil. “Ever so shiny, with engravings.” Virgil nods, pouring the water into the mugs. Opening the fridge, he finds the milk and shakes the carton seven times before thinking to check the date.

 

In by a day. That’s good.

 

He adds a little milk to their tea before putting everything away, sits back at the table and tries to sip at the scalding tea.

 

Patton gives him an amused look, and he moves his bangs slightly to look him up and down.

 

“What?”

 

“Oh, nothing. I just remembered when you were last here and you burnt all the roof of your mouth on your drink. You were so upset. Wait a little longer, okay?”

 

The last time that’d happened, he’d been fourteen. He’d cried into Patton’s shoulder the whole night.

 

Virgil just cracks a smile. “It smells good.”

 

“Still!” The two of them laugh.

 

They chatter a little more as their drinks cool, and before he knows it, he’s finished. Patton seemed to forget about his own, halfway through recounting a particular tale of where he found the tables in his room, so he politely reminds him of its existence as he goes to pour another cup. It takes a moment, but it clicks. He finishes his drink and rises, brushes up next to Virgil and shoos him back to his seat.

 

Virgil lets Patton take over, this time, but keeps him under watchful eye. “You’ve been on your feet so much today already.” Patton explains. “I want you to know something.”

 

His back to Virgil, his voice turns soft.

 

“I really appreciate you coming out here so often. Not many people want to come back here, so I’m thankful you do. Can’t really go as far as I’d like, these days.”

 

Virgil‘s gaze drops to his hands, rubbing with his thumbs in small circles. He doesn’t say anything. Waits.

 

The mugs enter his line of vision again.

 

“No problem, Patton.” He mumbles, fringe over his eyes. “I’ll always be here.” This is said clearer, and he pushes down the deep sadness that tugs at him when he sees the look of gratitude on Patton’s face.

 

He blows on his tea, and tries to sip at it. Patton lets out a wonderfully airy laugh. 

 

Sometimes he feels bitter, that he’s the only one who visits Patton anymore. Logan and Roman seem to find it too much to even give him the time of day.

 

(And that’s not fair, he knows, knows that Logan is the one organising and paying the house’s bills, knows that Roman sends cards every celebrated holiday— and the consistent proof of that, Virgil thinks, is likely still in this house somewhere. In another one of these many, many boxes.)

 

The four of them used to be so close.

 

He misses them.

 

The day wanes on. Virgil knows he’ll have to get back to his own apartment, maybe sit in the bath and wash this visit off his skin. Wash the dishes, perhaps. Feed his cat.

 

“Right,” Virgil sighs. He stands and brushes his hands off seven times. The look on Patton’s face almost makes him give in, but he knew this was coming. “I should get back.”

 

“So soon?”

 

He’s been here for over two hours. But that’s irrelevant.

 

“Yeah, work’s been getting to me recently, won’t get off my back. I have so many things to do.” He scratches his head, moves to take their mugs to the sink, and rinses them out. The mugs barely slide in the cupboard.

 

He doesn’t bother washing the other things in the sink. Even if he did, Patton’s cupboards were already so full, there’d be nowhere for them to go.

 

Patton nods, “That must be tough, you should tell them you need a little help.”

 

“Yeah, I know. I have so much anxiety when talking to my boss, though. I can barely even say good morning to him, let alone challenging his authority by asking for an extension.” He chuckles mirthlessly. “Newspapers are like that, so quick paced that I think they might drop me if I say that I can’t keep up.”

 

“Can’t you can use your rights from your disability for that?”

 

“I wish that was enough, I’m already on a looser schedule than my co-workers. I bet they hate me, I’m always complaining, even though I have it so much better than them.” He’s talking faster, so he focuses on enunciation. “I’m sorry, it’s stupid.”

 

“Hey.” Patton reaches for his hands. Takes them into his own and rubs away the half moon crescents with his thumbs. Virgil hadn’t even noticed he’d been digging his nails in. “Even breaths, kiddo.”

 

Eventually, it passes.

 

“Thanks.” The waver in his voice must sound like relief, so Patton lets him go. “I’ll see you next week, Pat.”

 

Patton smiles, and there’s a wetness to his eyes that Virgil pretends not to see. They shift over to the door, and Patton pulls the chain off before stepping away to let Virgil past.

 

“I’ll see you then. Be safe,” He says as Virgil slips past. Virgil looks over at him, smiles.

 

“I will, you too. Bye.” A salute, and he spins on his heel. Starts up Patton’s drive, says hello to the cat sat on the gate wall.

 

Patton waves to him long after he disappears behind the corner.

**Author's Note:**

> You’ll notice that both Virgil and Patton have some similarities. 
> 
> When we saw Patton’s room in canon, he has all of Thomas’ memories and the objects that came with them. It reminded me of something. 
> 
> “The obsessions and compulsions associated with OCD sometimes result in an individual’s having difficulty discarding and/or acquiring items or possessions.  For example, some people with OCD have fears or feelings that something bad or catastrophic will happen if they throw something away.  In other situations, individuals have feelings of incompleteness if something is given or thrown away; they may have a need to document and preserve all of their life experiences (e.g., keeping all of the toys they owned as a child).”


End file.
